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satoru has never been good at waiting.
not for dessert, not for mission briefings, not for six a.m. meetings with principal yaga. and especially not for you.
he was vibrating in place at the altar, tapping his foot, fiddling with the hem of his suit jacket, pushing his blindfold up then down again, his infinity flickering like a faulty streetlamp. nanami stood beside him, utterly unimpressed.
“if you can’t stand still, leave,” nanami muttered, adjusting his tie. he had been roped into officiating the wedding by gojo himself—“because you’re the most boring trustworthy person i know, nanamin! who better to marry us?”
gojo hadn’t stopped pacing since.
“i can’t stand still,” gojo groaned, dramatically flinging his head back. “she’s taking forever.”
“she’s walking from the other end of the garden,” nanami said without looking up from the little booklet in his hand. “twenty meters, not a marathon.”
gojo didn’t respond.
because then—he saw you.
you stepped out from behind the rows of flowers, the sun haloing you like you were something sacred. everyone turned to look, but his breath caught like he was seeing you for the first time.
your dress. your smile. the way your eyes softened when they found him.
you didn’t get more than five steps in before he moved.
“satoru—” nanami hissed, but he was already gone, a blur of white and soft laughter, suit barely holding on to him as he ran down the aisle like a man possessed.
his grin was so wide it’s a miracle his face didn’t split in two. he’s moving fast, ignoring suguru’s hissed “satoru, wait!” from the groom’s side and shoko’s half-hearted “oh, for god’s sake” from the front row.
gasps and laughter broke out among the guests. nanami pinched the bridge of his nose.
“of course.”
gojo reached you, grabbing your waist and lifting you up off the ground before you could say a single word. his lips were on yours before you could even catch your breath, one hand curled at your jaw, the other around your back, anchoring you to him like he never planned to let go again.
you laughed into the kiss, hands clutching his shoulders, and he just whispered, breathless against your lips, “couldn’t wait. couldn’t—baby, you’re so beautiful, i swear i was gonna pass out—”
“you were supposed to wait at the altar,” you teased, brushing his cheek.
“i did wait. like… ten full seconds,” he grinned, kissing you again quickly before scooping you fully into his arms.
“what are you doing—”
“shortcut. come on,” he beamed, already carrying you down the rest of the aisle, bridal style, as if it was his job now to deliver you to the altar. “if i waited for you, i’d die. nanamin, we’re ready!”
“you’ve ruined the timing of the entire ceremony,” nanami said as the two of you arrived in a fit of giggles and flushed cheeks. “you kissed her before the vows.”
“worth it,” gojo said, nuzzling into your temple as he set you down.
“you ran to me,” you whispered, eyes bright.
“i always will,” he murmured. “every damn time.”
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As crazy as he is, the first time Satoru told you he loves you was when you took a bath together— he’s obviously taking you a bath shampooing your hair and when you told him to wash your face too, closing your eyes lifting your face to him he secretly stared and smiled lathering foam all over your face that’s the moment he told you “I love you.” It’s straight forward. He was shy. And thank god the facial foam on your face you can’t open your eyes and see his blushing face.
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i need something beautiful and romantic to happen to me NOW
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Phantom Parade is so in love with him
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there is a lover girl inside me behind a thick wall of cynicism and trust issues
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I’m tired of moving on… can god give me something to hold onto for a change
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I be so disappointed when someone turns out to be such a waste of time. Like why did I allow you in my life in the first place.
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holding back the lover girl in me because i refuse to look like an idiot again
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Martha Gellhorn, from a letter to Adlai Stevenson featured in The Selected Letters of Martha Gellhorn
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